


maybe

by scumfuck



Category: IT 2017
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, Reddie, Smut, both are of age btw, reddie oneshot, reddie smut, richie and eddie, richie tozier and eddie kaspbrak, they live in nyc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumfuck/pseuds/scumfuck
Summary: sometimes eddie thinks maybe.





	maybe

**Author's Note:**

> this is smut hahahaha my first one even though i don't usually like writing it

Sometimes, Eddie Kaspbrak had fleeting thoughts of maybe.

 

Just maybe.

 

He never acts on it, of course, because every time it crosses his mind he flicks it away and instead centers his thoughts on something else, like what time his next lecture was or when he should leave for work. They never fell back on Richie, no, never him. If they did, they would never stop thinking, and he'd be all wrapped up in Richie-this and Richie-that, so he preferred not to let his mind wander there.

 

The next time it happens that Eddie did think about Richie, they're on the subway. They'd both come from their latest classes, and Richie looks as if he'll collapse if he had to move one muscle.

 

"Let me just rest my eyes, I swear I'm awake," he says as he falls sideways onto Eddie's shoulder, his hair tickling Eddie's neck. He still has his glasses on, but they seem to not be a problem for him because he pays no mind to them. Eddie gives a half hearted grunt, in doubt of his promise, but decides not to say anything more. He couldn't blame Richie for being so sleepy at this time of night, after all, Richie talks a lot during the day, and moves a lot, so Eddie figures he'd be out of energy too.

 

Eddie catches himself staring at the subway markers, then speaking without thinking.

 

"Hey, Richie," he really didn't mean for his lips to be in his hair when he says it. Richie gives a "mmph" in reply.

 

"My apartment is closer. I don't feel like cutting through all the people in Times Square right now, and I really don't wanna haul your ass up-"

 

Richie's fingers smush up against his lips in plea to silence him. He feels the boy grin against his shoulder, then reply in a low voice. "Yes, Eds, I'll stay at yours."

 

The subway comes to a halt at their station, and Eddie makes the effort to literally drag Richie off, who complied, but not eagerly. When they get to the street, Eddie reminds Richie that his apartment isn't that far of a walk, and they'll be there in no time.

 

Richie stops and gives a homeless man change along the way.

 

"God bless you," the man almost yells, "And Happy New Year."

 

Eddie remembers.

 

Right. It's New Year's Eve.

* * *

 

When they were young, Richie and Eddie and all of their friends would do things on New Year's. And when the two of them came to New York, they were usually invited to parties and get togethers. There was something about this year that just didn't work out in that sense, whether it be their classes or work or friends or whatever.

 

When they get into Eddie's apartment, Richie drops his backpack and heads for the couch. He takes the remote and looks up at Eddie.

 

"Dude, I think I'm gonna watch the ball drop and call it a night. I'm fucking pooped."

 

Eddie nods absentmindedly, and takes off his jacket, placing it on the hook next to Richie's.

 

Richie probably won't even make it that far, he thinks, but it doesn't really matter too much. Eddie sits himself in the kitchen, makes himself an effortless dinner, and reads the next chapter of Les Mis for his French class. He listens to the host of the ball drop faint in the background.

* * *

 

At around 11:30, Eddie finishes and closes his book, before getting up to check on the television. Richie is wrapped up in Eddie's duvet, drowning in it, and staring at the television. Eddie blinks, and that word is back, maybe. All smug and cheeky.

 

He sits down awkwardly far from where Richie is, but he doesn't wanna be on the comforter, so he ignores the gap. The flickers of light from the tv flash on and off on their skin, and Eddie can feel Richie staring at him.

 

"What time do you think it is in Australia?"

 

"I don't know. Daytime?"

 

At this time Eddie realizes Richie's in his underwear. He doesn't say anything because Richie always sleeps in his underwear unless it's way too cold and he needs a set of pajamas.

 

As Eddie toes off his shoes, Richie moves so he's up against him again, only the comforter between them. Eddie doesn't complain, he's too exhausted, or that's what he tells himself. He moves his arm up behind Richie's shoulders, his finger tapping lazily against the exposed collarbone. Richie hums.

 

"You got your resolutions yet, Eddie-boy?"

 

"Yeah, I guess."

 

_To figure out why you do this to me._

 

"I think, um-" _And do something about it._ "I think I'm gonna eat better this year. Maybe go vegetarian or something."

 

Richie snickers, his hand lifting and patting against Eddie's stomach. "Are you Mike? Besides, you don't need to. If you went vegetarian you'd probably look like you're anorexic."

 

"Speak for yourself," Eddie retorts and pushes his hand away. He hated when people touched his stomach. "You already look anorexic."

 

Richie laughs and sits up, letting the duvet fall from his shoulders. His pale chest is out in the open, and Eddie didn't want to stare at it, because the thought kept coming back and- and-

 

"Not true. Look, you can't even really see my ribs. See?" Eddie laughs it off and soon Richie sinks back into the couch, this time throwing the comforter over eddie's lap.

 

For a while neither of them say anything more, and as Eddie wraps Richie's curls around his fingers, he believes that he's asleep.

 

"Hey, Eddie?" Eddie isn't sure he's ever said his name like that, in that timid voice, as if he wants something, maybe, but doesn't know if he should ask or just take it. It makes Eddie's toes tingle and his chest swell up.

 

Maybe, he thinks, and sighs.

 

Richie sits up again and looks at him in the eyes. His eyebrows are pulled taut together, thinking. "Do you ever think-" The maybe drips between them like a leaky faucet, both of them can hear it so clearly but try to ignore it.

 

"Sometimes," Eddie replies. He presses a kiss to Richie's forehead, for comfort. Richie takes it a step further, however, reaches for the back of Eddie's neck and pulls their mouths together softly. Of course, Richie's always kissed Eddie, on the cheek and forehead as little gestures. Never anything more than that, and surely nothing like this.

 

Richie sighs and licks tentatively at Eddie's bottom lip. Eddie doesn't know what to do, so he opens his mouth, let's Richie in. He lets his eyes close and his tongue push carefully against Richie's. It's lazy and warm and kind of perfect, actually.

 

"Okay," Richie mumbles against Eddie's lips, "Okay, yeah." He's a little bit breathless and Eddie knows why, but he doesn't linger on it.

 

He thinks maybe he'd like to kiss Richie like this forever, or until he falls asleep. He thinks maybe that's all he needs for now.

 

Richie tugs at Eddie's shoulder and nudges his knee in between his thighs, never really letting go of his lips. Eddie gets the hint; Richie wants Eddie to sit in his lap. Eddie tries to roll on top of him, but when he executes it, it doesn't go exactly as planned. He gets tangled up in the blanket somehow and topples off the couch.

 

Not long after Richie's head pokes up over the heave of the comforter. "You good?" he asks, a light smile on his face. He bites his lip, probably holding back laughter.

 

"Great,"-although his cheeks are burning- "I'm fine." They're red partially because of the embarrassment of the fall, and partially because of the obvious erection he could see through Richie's boxers now. He tries not to think of his own hard on pressing painfully against his jeans. "Fuck."

 

He doesn't know what they're doing, if they should be doing it at all. They can't just... Richie's on the floor now, pulling Eddie on his lap. His cold hands work Eddie's shirt up, tracing the hot skin. Eddie bends down, searching for his lips in the dim light and quickly finding them. The kiss is innocent at first, and then more urgent.

 

And well.... Maybe they can.

 

"You need to-" Richie tries, and then Eddie nods. Both work to pull his shirt up and off, tossing it aside, maybe back up on the couch. Next Richie's working at his zipper, unbuttoning his jeans and Eddie gasps at the feeling of Richie's fingers on his thighs. He kicks off his pants so that it's only their boxers separating them. Richie nods, mumbles something incoherent as he pulls Eddie's hips to move against his own.

 

Eddie complies with the gesture, grinding down gently. He can feel the outline of Richie's cock underneath him, and Richie moans, and it's so unexpectedly arousing that he does, too.

 

"I think, maybe, uh-" Eddie says, and then shudders at his own words, his 'maybe'. "Yeah," he adds, making a decision. He kisses Richie's lips once more before standing, and Richie's empty arms reach out for him again.

 

Eddie's feet pad over to his nightstand, and he opens the drawer, searching around. He comes back to Richie moments later, lube and a condom in his hand. Richie looks at them in disbelief- maybe- but he takes them anyway.

 

Richie's places them on the carpet next to him, then reaches up for the edge of Eddie's boxers, slowly beginning to inch them off his hips and thighs. Eddie shivers.

 

"We don't have to, I mean, if you don't want to, like, if you don't- I just think maybe I want-" He's cut off because Richie lets his underwear fall around his ankles, and now his long fingers are curled around the base Eddie's- 

 

His hand starts to stroke up and down, his thumb collecting pre-come at the tip and Eddie moans, because- oh. He hasn't had this done to him in a while, and Richie's hand is so- it's so-

 

Richie gets on his knees and his mouth almost gets to his cock, except Eddie tugs on something to stop him, he doesn't know if it's his ear or his hair. Richie gives another 'mmph' and stops.

 

"Give me your hand, Rich, I want your hand," he pants, then, "I need." Richie nods, grabs the tiny bottle, and Eddie does it for him, covers them. He kicks his boxers off and pulls the hand a little closer to his mouth to kiss the tips of his fingers. He says, a little confidently, "In me."

 

Richie's breath catches in his throat. He reaches behind Eddie and rubs at first. He kisses the indent between Eddie's hipbone and upper thigh. Then he pushes a finger in. Eddie tenses at first, then relaxes, letting it move.

 

"God- shit, fuck, Richie," Eddie moans. And his hand is on his dick, knuckles brushing against Richie's neck and jaw with every other stroke, like he can't help it, he has to touch himself. Richie pushes a second finger in and starts a gentle but sure rhythm, and Eddie bucks his hips forward. Richie stills them with his other hand, strong on his hip.

 

Eddie stops moving his hand, squeezing the base and biting his lip as Richie continued. He stares down at him, as Richie starts to kiss his knuckles, then licks over them. Eddie's panting with restraint. Richie keeps pumping his fingers in, and keeps licking his fingers wet, until Eddie spread them farther apart so he had better access to his erection.

 

Eddie feels a third finger, but he can barely pay attention because now Richie is licking up the side of him until he's at the tip, then he sucks. Eddie whimpers, "Shit, Richie- how are you so good at-"

 

Richie moans and keeps going down farther. Eddie's hand curls into his hair, gently holding his head. He groans suddenly, the combination of Richie's mouth and his fingers there, right there, right- "Oh, Richie, stop, or I'll- I might, maybe-" His voice is broken and needy.

 

Richie pops off, smirking, and then slowly begins to pull his fingers out. Eddie stands and recovers for a second. Then he gets on his knees and works off Richie's boxers. He stops suddenly, mouth gaping.

 

"What, baby?" Richie's hand runs over Eddie's jaw, reaching up to kiss his neck.

 

"Jesus, Rich- what the fuck?" Eddie holds his dick in his hand, wondering how the hell he was supposed to fit it in him. "Is this a joke?"

 

Richie's undoing the condom as Eddie stared at him. He smiled smugly, rolling the condom over himself."No, this is the real thing, Eds."

 

Eddie covers Richie's dick with a beyond generous amount of lube. Richie kisses him, biting Eddie's swollen lip and pulling it back. Eddie nodded against his lips, sitting up. He keeps Richie's cock in his hand and positions himself over it.

 

He bites his own lip, trying to ignore the stretch. "Shit, Richie- You're so-"

 

Richie shushes him softly. "Relax, baby, you're good, it's gonna feel good."

 

Eddie nods and lets gravity push him deeper inside him. Oh, they're really doing this, really actually doing this now.

 

Richie scoots a little farther from the back of the couch now, letting his fingers run over Eddie's trembling thighs and the tense muscles of his abdomen. Richie tries to pay attention to the tighthot sensation of him in Eddie instead of the fact that Eddie was making him feel this way.

 

"You okay?" he asks Eddie, who nods, his eyes lustful, as he clenches around Richie. "Fuck," Richie groans. "Jesus."

 

Eddie's the one to give a smug smile now, and pushes sweaty curls away from Richie's forehead. "Good?" he asks. "Is it good?"

 

Richie's hips buck up and Eddie whimpers again. "It would be better if you did something other than sit on my dick, Eds." His voice is shaky.

 

"Mmm, still a snarky bitch, even during sex," Eddie says, "I see." He does move, rocks down until he finds a good spot.

 

"If anyone's the bitch here-" Richie pants.

 

Eddie leans forward, right at his ear, nibbles on the lobe before whispering, "I could make you beg for it, Richie. You know I could."

 

Richie leans forward when Eddie pulls back and nips at his smile. "Fuck you."

 

Eddie laughs and arches his back, reaches behind him and cups Richie's balls, then searches for where they're connected. Richie gasps at the added contact.

 

"Yeah, you definitely are. Just making sure." Eddie smiles at first, and then his eyes widen, and so do Richie's, as if the intensity of what they're actually doing just hit both of them.

 

"Eddie-"

 

"I know. I know, okay?" And he does know, he does, but he doesn't want to go over it or analyze it anymore because it feels so right to be in this position right now, even if it happened so quickly. It's a bit reckless, he supposes, but he doesn't want to see it in that light yet.

 

Richie pushes his hips up again, a nudge, just to tell him. "Please move, please, you feel so good, baby."

 

_Maybe, just maybe._

 

Eddie nods in agreement and fucks himself back down, steadily and slow at first, but gaining a little more speed. Richie lets him do most of the work, holding his hips as Eddie did so. Eddie doesn't know where to put his hands, so he rests them on Richie's smooth chest.

 

At one point, Richie bucks his hips up, right at that spot, and Eddie lets out a keening whine, right from the back of his throat.

 

"Shit, do that again," Richie moans, his hand going straight to Eddie's cock again. Eddie does, he throws his head back, his eyes half closed, and lets out a needy and soft noise. Eddie's breath comes in short pants now, and the rhythm falters. Richie doesn't stop, though, and praises Eddie. "You're so fucking beautiful, so good like this, for me, God, you're so hot, Eddie." Eddie cries out as he comes, hot and sticky over Richie's hand and his own chest.

 

Richie isn't far behind, and Eddie keeps rocking down, lazier now, murmuring, "Yeah, baby, c'mon. C'mon." That's all Richie needs, just Eddie. He comes with his hands digging into Eddie's hips, a gaspshuddering over his tongue.

 

Eddie pulls off and winces at the emptiness, letting Richie tie up the condom and attempt to throw it near the trash can. Eddie decides it's easier to worry about it later and lays next to Richie on the carpet. He pulls the comforter over them again, and Richie pulls them close, throwing his leg over Eddie's. "So fucking tired," he mumbles, and Eddie's glad they pushed the conversation until the next morning, because he didn't have enough energy to figure it out.

 

The televisions still on, and the clock is at 12:03 now, so they missed the ball drop. He laughs a bit at it all, but thinks that it counts because they were both awake.

 

"It's always so hyped up," he says to himself as the heaps of tourists flooded the city streets.

 

Richie nods against his shoulder. "Fuck the ball drop," he murmurs against Eddie's collarbone. That's his way of agreeing, he supposes. Richie's asleep not long after. His body is loose and breathing deeply against Eddie's.

 

Eddie is drifting again, letting his eyes close and his thoughts swirl around.He thinks of Richie, actually lets his mind for the first time, and wonders if it will work out.

 

Maybe it will. Just maybe they could work out. And maybe Eddie really wants to try.

 

Maybe they can have this.


End file.
